Here in the cave, here in the
darkness, I sit alone and wait for God. He is my glory, my hope, the Lord of my
life and the master of my destiny. He is the creator of all that is, and the
only true source of joy. And now I sit alone in the darkness and wish that I
could die.

It has been an amazing experience
to walk with God through the thunder and the terror, judgement and vindication,
yet, even after all of that. I am utterly alone.

I have seen the judgement of God
fall upon the land, when for three years the heavens were shut up and no rain
fell. And while the people of Israel cried out in their terrible thirst (but
still did not see that the linchpin of life is not the thirst for water but our
soul deep thirst for God, without whom we cannot live a single breath), for all
that time the Lord sustained me in a hidden place, by a secret stream and fed
by the birds of heaven: the ravens men scorn were my lifeline. The king had the
land searched for me, and they could not find me, I had vanished from men’s
sight like the caterpillar vanishes into the darkness of its cocoon, only to
re-emerge transfigured by wings when God’s time is right.

Oh I felt like a winged creature up
there on Mount Carmel. The power of God was strong in that moment, and I felt
his spirit coursing through my words and actions. I challenged those
presumptuous priests of Baal, and those perverted priests of Ashtoreth, and I
knew, before any words had left my lips, that the hour of their undoing was at
hand. They could perform all their grotesque rituals, cry out their prayers,
demonic and pathetic, and it would avail them nothing. The fire would not fall
from heaven for them, no matter what lengths they went to beseech it. I laughed
at them, for I could afford to laugh that day.

Then, when I had finally had enough
of their antics, it was my turn. The people were subdued by then, and probably
a little bored, they had been waiting all day and nothing had happened. There
were questions hanging in the air. But when I called for water to be poured over
my sacrifice, they started to pay attention again. This was the total opposite
of what they had expected, the total opposite of what their false priests had
done. And then I prayed, simply and explicitly and all Israel knew what was at
stake.

And then the fire fell. The glory
of God broke through, and there was wonder and much fear. And all those false
heathen priests were put to death in the fervour that followed.

But I had not reckoned with the
malice of Jezebel. The demonstrable greatness of God which brought fear and
renewal to Israel, brought no repentance to her wicked heart. Instead of
triumph, I have been forced to flee for my life. Are all my efforts for
nothing? Am I the only one left in Israel who truly worships the Living God? Is
my victory only the passage to a darker and more terrible defeat?

Yet I am now in the very place
where the Lord appeared to Moses and Israel were born. Perhaps if I plead my
case here he will appear again to his servant and Israel can yet be renewed.

Sunday, February 08, 2015

I had always thought that having
enough money would solve all my problems. I hadn’t grown up in a rich family,
and I was always aware of the things that other people had and we didn’t. My
deep resentment was fertile soil for avarice and envy to grow. I wanted all the
comforts that wealth could bring, to live not only knowing where my next meal
was coming from, but that it would be delicious and just to my taste, and to
know that no one could evict me from my home, and that this same home would be
filled with beautiful things that gave me pleasure. My family owned no land,
and had no wealth for me to inherit, nor had I been trained for any lucrative
trade. I would have to work out my own path to wealth.

I am not a strong man to engage in
big physical tasks, I am a small man – oh, let’s be honest! – a very small man.
Not a fine upstanding figure in any sense. As a child I was mocked even more
for being small even more than for being poor. That does something to man’s
sense of self as well (ok, I mean his pride) and I was always looking for some
way to make people take notice of me, some way to assert my power so that
everyone would have to take account of me. It took me some time to realise that
I could gain both wealth and power by becoming a tax collector for the Romans.

So I did. It was a ridiculously
easy way to make money for anyone skilled enough to read and write and count.
The Romans told me how much tax they needed from the area, I collected from
people as much as I could get away with, and after paying Rome the allotted
amount, the rest was mine. But it certainly didn’t make me any friends. To my
fellow Jews I was both a thief and a traitor. Happiness continued to elude me.
The very wealth and power I had sought had become a dragging burden.

Then, one day, when I was feeling
at a particularly low place, I heard that the celebrated teacher, Jesus, was
coming to town. Acting completely out of character, I decided that I wanted to
see him for myself. I knew that no one was going to make room for me in the
front of the crowd, and I couldn’t see over them, so I decided to climb a big
sycamore tree. Peering out from between the leaves I would have a really good
view, but no one else would notice me.

It didn’t work out quite as I had
planned. True, no one in the crowd noticed me, but Jesus did. He looked
straight up into that tree, as if he had always known I would be there, called
me by name (how did he know?) and told me to come down because he wanted to eat
at my house. I was astonished (so was everyone who knew me), but the invitation
was irresistible. I had never climbed down from a tree so fast, and didn’t even
stop to consider that, in that moment, I was also climbing down from the high
and lonely perch of unlawful wealth, misused power, and deep, deep resentment
(which can be the most self-righteous choice there is). I simply looked in his
eyes and saw that he loved me, that he was glad to meet me, and suddenly all
the things I had held onto so tightly seemed like dust and ashes by comparison,
and the embrace in which I had held them seemed like prison chains which bound
me to misery. I could give it away, I could be done with it all, I could be
free.

And Jesus smiled at me and said, “Today
salvation has come to this house.”

About Me

Mother of two grown up kids,and very long time married, after many years as a full-time mum, then a part-time theological student I'm now trying to be useful in my local church whilst working out what the next step is.I'm passionate about Jesus, treasure the people in my life and dream of being a preacher. I'm a would-be poet, a slightly eccentric cook, and an INFP (which must explain something).
And I'm a pickle: a weird shaped lump of something-or-other, a bit salty, a bit sweet, definitely an acquired taste, preserved by the grace of God and trying to add a bit of flavour to the blandness of modern life.